TAG
by Artemis Day
Summary: With the greatest threat the Avengers have ever faced defeated, they are left to their next most fierce battle. Friends will be pitted against each other. Bonds will be tested. Who will survive when the Avengers decide to stop being nice and start playing Tag?


**A/N: So here's a little fic I've been working on for a while. It is based on the movie, Tag, which is awesome and you should see it if you hadn't. All I could think while watching it was, 'What if the Avengers did this? How nuts would that be?'**

 **And apparently, it would be this nuts.**

 **I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

It was a wonderful time to be an Avenger. The world was safe and everyone who had tragically lost their lives at the thumb and middle finger of Thanos was once more alive and well.

Thanos, of course, was not alive. In fact, he was dead. He was super dead. The Wicked Witch of the East had more life in her than Thanos. When Charles Dickens wrote that Jacob Marley was dead as a doornail, it was only because he didn't get to see how dead Thanos was. Thanos was as dead as, like, forty-seven doornails.

The story of his defeat was an epic tale full of action, drama, and the occasional well-timed joke to lighten the mood. Friendships were tested, relationships destroyed and renewed. The entire Avengers team banded together to fight the mad Titan and take back their universe. Their combined powers were put to the test in this, the greatest battle they had ever faced. When it was over, they'd become the stuff of legends. Mothers would put their children to bed with stories of their heroics for centuries to come. Truly, it was the greatest superhero story ever told.

Anyway, one day Tony decided he wanted to play tag.

"Are you serious?" Natasha asked this like it was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard in her life, which it actually wasn't, but that was another story.

"Contrary to popular belief, I am serious more than thirty percent of the time," Tony proudly proclaimed. "I'd say approximately thirty-three percent."

He was speaking before a small gathering of official Avengers team members and allies. They were only half-listening as they all spread out and did their own thing.

Clint was sharpening one of his arrows.

Natasha was flipping through a magazine.

Peter was doing his homework.

Strange was playing poker with his cape (and losing).

Bruce was checking his email.

Vision was looking into Wanda's eyes.

Wanda was looking into Vision's eyes.

Sam was spoiling the ending of the book Bucky was reading.

Bucky was attempting to strangle Sam.

Rhodey was holding Bucky back from strangling Sam.

Scott was… somewhere. Maybe. Hard to be sure with that guy.

The lack of an appropriate response to Tony's brilliance was both obvious and upsetting. After everything he'd done for these ingrates. Really.

"Isn't anyone going to ask why we're playing tag?"

"Because there hasn't been a legitimate threat since Thanos and you're bored?" Strange guessed, then cursed as his cape laid out a straight flush.

"Yes, but also because I was at the movies the other day, and there was this one movie about a group of guys who'd been playing the same game of tag for thirty years."

"That sounds boring," said Sam through metal fingers slowly inching their way around his throat.

"No, it sounds awesome," Tony said. "And it's an awesome movie. That Jeremy Renner guy is a badass and I'm thinking of giving him Clint's spot on the team. You don't mind, do you pal?"

"Fuck you very much, Tony."

"I think it's a good idea," Peter said. He had his hand up, a Pavlovian response built into him from years in the public school system. "I mean, I haven't played tag since I was eight and I kind of thought it was just a dumb kid's game before now, but given most of us either have powers or high tech gadgets, we could probably cover a lot more ground than your average civilian. So yeah, I'm all in."

"Glad to hear it, kid!" Tony nodded approvingly at his young not-ward. "Except you're barred from playing this time because you're grounded."

Peter's jaw fell. "I'm what? Why?"

"Because last week you went on your own after that suicide bomber when I told you not to. Also, I never properly punished you for the whole 'stowing away on an alien spaceship and getting blasted off to an alien planet with me' thing. So you're grounded."

"Wait a minute, you're not my guardian, Mr. Stark. I don't-"

Tony whipped out his phone and dialed May Parker. "Hey, there May. How you doing, gorgeous? Just wanted to let you know Peter didn't listen to me last week when I told him not to go after a suicide bomber. Almost got blown up. It was serious shit… uh huh… uh huh… okay, good talking to you. Tell the cat lady in apartment ten I said hi." Tony hung up. "She said you're grounded."

Peter fell back in his chair, sulking in silence.

"Okay. Everyone else is eligible and officially in the game." Tony rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "I'm sure you all know the rules of Tag. One person is It. If you get tagged on any part of your body, clothed or otherwise, you are the new It. Now, who's ready to play?"

A collectively apathetic murmur across the board.

"Do any of you have anything better to do?"

A slightly more enthused murmur.

"So what now? Are you going to tag one of us or…" Bruce gestured at the group, then at Tony.

"Nah, I'm not It. That would've been too easy. I called Steve ten minutes ago. Let him know I volunteered him to be the first It."

As if triggered by a phrase even he didn't realize was a trigger, Bucky was instantly off Sam and up in Tony's face. "You made Steve It? Are you out of your goddamn mind?!"

"First of all, ease up on the chili dogs." Tony waved away Bucky's breath. "Second, what exactly is your problem?"

"My problem is you have no idea what Steve gets like when he plays Tag." Bucky paced back and forth, wringing his hands. "Everyone always says Steve was weak before he got the serum, but that's because they never played hide and seek with him in the park."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying Steve Rogers does not seek. He hunts."

Tony snorted, not just because the formerly brainwashed assassin he once tried to kill had never looked more serious. "Oh come on. I know Steve's no boy scout, but how serious can he possibly get about Tag?"

A motorcycle crashed through the window, an impressive feat given they were on the sixth floor. Vision and Wanda took to the air to avoid the shards of glass while Natasha tucked and rolled. Everyone else scrambled in different directions, unsure whether they should be running or fighting. The bike screeched to a halt before Tony and Bucky. The headlights were on full blast and shined in their faces, blinding them. They still saw clearly the bloodlust in their enemy's eyes.

"DIIIIIIIIIIIE!" Steve drove straight at them.

"Holy shit!" Tony leaped out of the way, his armor forming around him.

Bucky did a front flip over the bike and landed behind Steve. "Everybody run! I'll hold him off!"

"You're doing a brave thing," Sam said, saluting his dear friend. "Also, Tyler Durden and the narrator are the same person."

"You son of a-"

But Sam had already flown out through the gaping hole in the window, and Steve was back on the motorcycle.

"We meet again, Barnes," he sneered. "Ready to be It?"

Bucky assumed his stance. "You couldn't catch me when we were eleven, and you can't catch me now, Rogers."

"We'll see."

He revved the engine. Bucky narrowed his eyes. As the tension grew into a thick fog, the two warriors let out powerful battle cries and charged.

Outside, the remaining nine (or possibly ten- where even was Scott?) Avengers regrouped and reconvened next to the newly installed koi pond. The peaceful atmosphere it promoted had been shaken by this sudden and unexpected upset, but thankfully, Steve had chosen to make his grand entrance from the front of the building. All the little fishies swam about none the wiser. Barely a minute into the game and more than one player already envied their ignorance.

"Okay, that was… definitely a way to kick things off," Tony chuckled. "So I'll have FRIDAY set a timer for… midnight, let's say. That gives us twelve hours."

"Mr. Stark-"

"Except you. You're still grounded."

Peter pouted and was ignored.

"Are you sure Bucky'll be okay?" Rhodey glanced up at the shattered window. "I know Steve would never intentionally hurt him, but…"

"Ah, he'll be fine," said Tony. "But let's all have a moment of silence for him anyway. He made a great sacrifice taking Steve on to save us. We can only hope that in the end, he didn't suffer."

 **MEANWHILE INSIDE**

"You suck at this game!" Steve slapped at Bucky's face, unable to see well enough to aim as Bucky slapped him back.

"You suck at life." Bucky went for his cheek but got the tip of his nose instead.

"You suck at everything!"

Slap slap slap

"That's the same thing as sucking at life you dumb fuck!"

"Fuck you. You're a shit tag player."

"You're just a shit!"

Slap slap slap

"Jerk!"

"Punk!"

Slap slap slap

 **MEANWHILE OUTSIDE**

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, the game has begun. Go about your business and pray you don't get tagged." Tony's nanotech helmet crawled into place. "Because uh… yeah, good luck catching me. Arrivederci!"

He flew at warp speed, leaving the team to glance at each other awkwardly, trying to piece together the last five minutes into something coherent and rational. On the sixth floor, Steve's motorcycle flew through the air, sans rider, and into the koi pond.

"So… now what?" asked Bruce.

"I'm getting a drink," Natasha said, heading to her car.

"I'll join you," said Clint.

One by one the group dispersed, until only Peter was left, looking confusedly in all directions. "Uh… is someone going to drive me home?"

 **MEANWHILE AT A BAR IN MANHATTAN**

"What the hell is Stark thinking?" Natasha downed a shot of vodka. It was only her second and she wasn't even close to buzzed yet. "Tag? Of all the things he could've picked to waste a Saturday."

"I can't even remember the last time I played tag," said Clint, nursing a beer. "Must've been back during the circus days."

"I played Tag once in the red room," Natasha said. "Of course, we were playing with assault rifles and whoever got tagged was immediately killed, but… well, I was good at it."

"You had assault rifles? Lucky. All I got was a plank of wood with a nail in it. Had to take out enough eyeballs to fill a mason jar if I wanted any dinner that night."

"Just one mason jar? Amateurs."

Clint snorted. Natasha's stories always brought a smile to his face. "God, our lives are fucked up."

"Don't have to tell me twice," said Natasha, "but look at it this way, I've learned the value of human life, and you're the best father in the world. We wouldn't have those things if it weren't for our experiences."

"Good point. I never want my kids to suffer the way I did."

"Yup."

They drank quietly, watching the game on one of the overhead TVs with vague interest. It was a basketball game, a sport neither of them had much interest in. If nothing else, watching team a get decimated by team b killed eleven minutes.

"You ever think how weird it is that I have a wife and kids?" Clint asked.

Natasha played with her empty shot glass. "Every single day."

The front door burst off its hinges, covering the floor in splintered wood. The little bell let out a final, pathetic ding as it was crushed under a heavy boot. "Clint Barton! Natasha Romanov! I challenge you to a game of Tag!"

It was Steve Rogers, large and imposing in his full Captain America regalia. He even had the shield. His star had been badly stitched back onto his chest and hung on now by a literal thread. It swung a bit when he moved, but it was still better than his original idea for a new costume. That monstrosity, with its garish yellow cape and bottomless neckline, would've given Edna Mode a heart attack.

"Steve?" Natasha gawked at him. "What the hell?"

"Hey!" The owner, a greasy fat man with no hair and a white apron, bounded over the bar, waving a dirty rag at Steve like a weapon. "You'd better fix that door, you Star-spangled dipshit! I don't care what kind of super Avenger business you got."

"I'm so sorry, sir," Steve said politely. He whipped out his checkbook and scribbled something down. "This should cover the damages."

Whatever amount he'd written, it was enough to make the owner back away, clutching the check to his chest. "Carry on."

"Thank you." Steve went back to pointing dramatically at his foes. "Anyway, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov! You have been challenged to engage with me in the noble sport of Tag. Do you accept?"

"Do we have a choice?"

"No."

"Well, I guess that settles that." Clint dropped a few bills on the counter as he and Natasha made their exit out the back door.

Miraculously, Steve didn't follow them. They didn't see him at all as Clint pulled their nondescript black sedan out of the parking lot. It blended in with several other nondescript cars out on the road. Two blocks away, they stopped at a red light. Six cars were ahead of them and it didn't look like they'd be moving any time soon.

"Remind me to get Stark to attach wings to the car," Clint muttered. He leaned out the window, but the light was no less red than it had been a moment ago. "I can't deal with this traffic every day."

"That's New York for you," said Natasha. She checked out the rearview mirror, but there was nobody following them. Not by car or on foot. "You don't think he'll come after us, do you?"

"Steve? Nah." Clint drummed on the dashboard. "I mean yeah, that whole motorcycle thing was pretty out there, but it was probably just him fucking around. There's no way he'd really-"

Something landed on the roof of the car. It tucked, rolled, and then a deranged, upside down face appeared in the windshield. "YOU'RE IT!" Steve screamed.

Clint and Natasha screamed, too, but it was far less coherent as they swerved down the street like a carload of drunks trying to avoid a deer. They weaved through traffic, sliding against other cars, scaring off pedestrians, and knocking over road signs. With the head of an unhinged centurion blocking his view, Clint had no idea where he was going. He ended up in Central Park, driving through a field as countless innocents were forced to flee the oncoming vehicle. It was like something out of an action movie, but as Clint was not Bruce Willis and Director Fury wasn't around to scream at him, he wasn't nearly as focused and ran down at least one mime.

"Right!" Natasha shouted. "Hard right!"

"That won't help!"

"Yes, it will. Hard right and then stop. Trust me!"

Normally, Clint would trust Natasha with his life, but he didn't normally have a legendary American hero on top of his car trying to kill him over a children's game. He did as she said and took a sharp turn into a playground. It was thankfully empty, having been closed down for repairs. Those repairs were going to take a while as they slammed into the slide and sent it into a fountain. A group of unsuspecting street performers was drenched. Clint threw a few twenties out the window at them.

"Sorry!" he shouted. "Official Avengers business!"

"Stop now," Natasha screamed right before they hit a streetlamp. "NOW!"

Clint stopped. He braked hard enough to dislodge Steve's fingers from the windshield. He went flying, slammed into the lampost and landed headfirst on the concrete below. It was fortunate no one else was around. Just one photo of Cap on the ground with his ass in the air could fuel a year's worth of internet memes and repetitive jokes for hokey stand-up comedians. Clint did hear a click as Natasha snapped a quick shot. They scrambled out of the car and checked him for injuries.

"Goddammit," Clint muttered as he dragged Steve off his head and into a sitting position. Steve moaned weakly at his touch. "Think he's okay?"

"Should be. He's survived a lot worse." Natasha patted Steve's face, trying to rouse him. "Steve? Can you hear me?"

"Oh, the pain…" Steve croaked, "the pain…. IS COMING FOR YOU!"

He launched himself at them and just barely missed Natasha's arm. Fast as a super soldier was, SHIELD had drilled evasive maneuvers into her agents' heads from day one. Dodging was lesson number one. Running like hell when you had no weapons and a dangerously unstable opponent was lesson two.

They made it to the Central Park Zoo, but while the larger crowd made it easy for them to lose Steve, it also cut their speed down by half. At this point, Clint was wishing he hadn't abandoned the car.

"I just realized," he said as they cut through the seal exhibit on their way to the exit, "I'm going to get so many tickets, aren't I?"

"Eh, give them to Coulson. He'll take care of it."

A mighty roar in the distance let them know they should get a move on. It was far too late as Steve descended upon them like a rabid tiger on PCP. "THERE IS NO ESCAPE! YOU WILL BE IT!"

"STEVE, YOU ARE WAY TOO INTENSE!" Natasha shouted at him.

"SUCK MY DICK!"

They kept running, slowly losing energy. Trained as they were, they were still normal humans up against the speed and stamina of Captain America himself. Clint looked at Natasha, her pale face and sweat-stained shirt. The end was near and they both knew it. Up ahead was a bridge. Below it, a bike trail. Neither of them spoke a word. They were completely in-sync and knew what had to be done.

With one final burst of adrenaline, they grabbed the railing and vaulted over the edge. The drop was a good twelve feet. Clint landed on his side, keeping his head tucked in and his face up. He heard Natasha hit the ground, but couldn't tell where. He wasn't wearing anything reinforced, stupidly assuming nothing would attack him today. His body was left to absorb the fall on its own and he'd be feeling that crick in his neck all week.

Natasha said something in Russian. Probably a curse.

"Agreed," said Clint. He got to his feet and helped her off her knees. She was scratched and bruised, but no worse for the wear.

Looking up, they found Steve watching them from the bridge. He wore an unnerving smile. "Nice job. You guys are good at this game."

"Fuck off," Clint snapped. "The hell is wrong with you? All this just so you could tag us?"

"Actually, I haven't been completely honest with you two," Steve said. "You see, I do want you to play… but I'm not It."

Clint blinked. Natasha blinked. Steve smiled wider like he was dying to reveal a juicy secret.

"What do you mean you're not It?" Natasha demanded.

"Hi," said Bucky.

He was behind them.

That had happened at some point.

He tapped Natasha on the shoulder, then backflipped into some trees before her knife had a chance to slice his throat open. He reappeared next to Steve. Just teleporting all over the place, that smug shithead. Fucking super soldiers…

"Now you're It," Steve said as he and Bucky fist bumped. "Enjoy the game losers!"

They both took off in different directions, impossible to track or catch. Clint would be replaying the last thirty seconds in his head for the rest of the day, but he'd never be able to make sense of it. "Remind me to shoot them on our next mission and make it look like an accident."

"Noted," said Natasha, her shoulders slumped. "I can't believe this. They actually expect us to play this game."

"Well, technically, I don't have to play. Only you do."

She stared at him. "What?"

"He tagged you, not me. So you're It."

It was perfectly sound logic, at least until Clint's brain fully recovered from the shock of the fall. By then, Natasha had already slapped him upside the head. "Now you're It."

"Excuse me?" Clint smacked her on the arm. "You're It!"

She whacked him on the chest. "No, you're It."

He hit her elbow. "You."

His face. "You."

Her collarbone. "You."

Chest. "You."

Shoulder. "You."

Face. "You."

Arm. "You!"

At this point, it was impossible to know which of them was it. They shouted and smacked each other like a pair of teenage girls fighting over a bottle of nail polish. The few park-goers who dared to return after that joyride from Hell scampered off in fear as the former allies engaged in an all-out war.

"You're It!" Natasha shouted at Clint.

"You're It!" Clint shouted right back.

"NO," they both shouted. "YOU'RE IT!"

They hit someone else. Someone they hadn't noticed before. Pausing the battle, they instantly recognized a gray professor's jacket and a pair of glasses over seemingly meek dark brown eyes. Bruce glanced down at their hands on his chest, then back at their horror-stricken faces. As his eyes shifted to sickly green, neither Clint nor Natasha could offer any words of apology. Instead, they booked it. Bruce didn't chase them. He waited for them to climb over a fence before letting his eyes go back to normal and returning to his leisurely stroll.

"I love doing that."

 **MEANWHILE ON LONG ISLAND**

"Hey there, how's my baby doing?"

Tony kissed Pepper's swollen belly and rubbed along the sides where the baby was most likely to kick. She was in their room looking over financial reports because even on maternity leave a CEO was always a CEO. Tony would've complained, but he used to bring his work home, too, when he wasn't bringing secretaries home. He thanked his lucky stars Pepper had never been tempted to do the latter.

"Tony, that tickles," Pepper said as Tony's beard brushed her bare stomach. Giggling she swatted at his head. "Stop it."

"Can't I have quality time with our baby in peace?" he snarked. "Sometimes I think you don't appreciate me at all."

"I appreciate this nice pillow you made me." Pepper patted her full body therapy pillow which Tony had designed especially for her during her pregnancy. It came complete with adjustable heat settings and his own (better) take on memory foam. If he had to rank his top ten best creations ever, it was an easy number six.

He still pouted. "Don't listen to Mommy, Morgan. Daddy knows how much you love him and can't wait to meet him. I've already got your room all set up. Just finished building your crib. It's blue for now but I was able to rearrange the chemical composite of the paint so if you turn out to be a girl we can change it to pink. Or if you don't like either of those colors I added twelve other options we can choose from."

"You know, we never actually agreed to name the baby Morgan," said Pepper.

"Never disagreed either," Tony replied. "Did you have any other ideas?"

"I'll think about it." Pepper signed a few more contracts, then pushed all her work to the other side of the bed. Tony's side. Was she sending him some kind of message? "I'm hungry. Do we have any pickles left?"

"We should. I had Happy buy another dozen crates last week."

"Sorry to interrupt," said FRIDAY over the intercom, "but Dr. Banner is here to see you, Mr. Stark. Should I send him up?"

"Bruce? Yeah, of course."

A few seconds later, Bruce appeared with a smile and a wave. "Hey guys, hope I'm interrupting."

"You? Never." Tony gave him a friendly hug. "Always glad to have you, buddy."

"Hey Bruce," said Pepper. She moved slowly off the bed and waddled over to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "How've you been?"

"Hanging in there," he shrugged. "The Other Guy's been pretty calm lately."

"Probably bored with no Titans to smash," said Tony. "Anyway, what brings you to our neck of the woods?"

Bruce's smile faded. "Well, you know how we're all playing that game of Tag?"

Tony backed up a step. "Are you It?"

"Yeah," Bruce admitted. He tapped Tony on the shoulder. "And now you're It. Sorry, Tony."

"Ah dammit. Thought I'd make it longer than a day." Tony sighed long and loud. "Ah well, c'est la vie, Que sera, sera and all that. FRIDAY, can you get Rhodey in here? Tell him it's an emergency."

"On it."

"Tony I'm pretty sure that's cheating," said Pepper.

"It's not cheating if you make the rules."

"No, it's still kind of cheating," Bruce interjected. "At the very least it's an abuse of power."

"Bruce, buddy, I love you, but you are not the mother of my child, so could you-"

The door burst open, admitting an out of breath and sweaty Rhodey. His robotic harness was working overtime getting him where he needed to go. "Tony, what's wrong? What's the emergency? Are Pepper and the baby okay?"

"Oh yeah, they're all fine," Tony said cheerfully before poking him. "You're just It."

Rhodey gaped, his eyes hardening with rage. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"See you guys later." He hugged Bruce and kissed Pepper as his suit took form. "Bruce, while I'm gone, could you get Pepper a pickle and chocolate chip sandwich. The kid needs his or her fix."

"Uh… no problem."

"Tony…" Rhodey advanced on his former friend.

"Sorry pal. Gotta fly." The window slid open of its own volition and off he went.

Cursing, Rhodey switched on his own armor. It took far less time to form, likely due to the power of his immense fury.

"You have nanotech now, too?" Bruce gasped.

"Yeah, Tony made it. No big deal," said Rhodey, even though it was very much a big deal. "You can take a look later. Right now, I need to commit cold-blooded murder."

"Just bring him back safely when you're done," said Pepper.

"I'll do my best." Rhodey took off, vanishing over the horizon.

FRIDAY closed the window, restoring peace to the new Stark family home once again. Bruce rolled his shoulders.

"So... I'll just get you that sandwich now."

"Thanks, Bruce," said Pepper, pulling herself back into bed. "With a side of coleslaw, please?"

"Sure thing…"

 **MEANWHILE IN THE AIR SOMEWHERE**

Tony flew so fast, he was nothing but a red and gold blur of awesomeness against the sun. An equally, if not more awesome silver blur followed close on his heels. Tony had not made it a rule that skin to skin contact was required for tagging, so if Rhodey caught his foot, that would be the end of him. He'd be It, and he'd have to hope Rhodey was too busy gloating over his victory to notice the oncoming threat of a tag back.

"Just like college all over again, isn't it?" He heard Rhodey curse as he almost smacked face first into a bird. "You okay there Rhodes?"

"Better than you're about to be." Rhodey activated his secondary boosters, giving him a burst of speed which almost matched Tony's as he activated his boosters. "You and your stupid game are going down."

"If it's so stupid, why are you playing?"

"Because I hate being It, okay? I always did. Now get back here so I can tag you up the ass.'

"Tempting, but I'm happily married." Tony gave him a thumbs up, then flipped him off. "Catch me if you can, Snore Machine."

Tony veered left towards the beach. He flew low for the kids. They loved it when he stopped to wave at them. Amid their cheers and snapping photos, he could still here Rhodey closing in.

"Snore Machine? Is that the best you can do?"

"What's wrong, Bore Machine? Can't take the heat?"

"I don't know, Tony Stank. Let's find out."

They were flying over Manhattan, close to the Statue of Liberty. Tony thought about stopping for an epic showdown like something out of an action movie. He used to love those things when he was a kid and copying them was a lot more fun when the universe wasn't at stake. After careful consideration, he flew on. No need to bother Pepper with frivolous lawsuits and complaints of property damage. Better to wait until Morgan was at least two years old.

He ascended a few thousand feet, enough that the temperature inside the suit significantly dropped. Rhodey had yet to let up and nearly scraped the bottom of Tony's foot before he abruptly changed directions.

"Not bad. For a minute there, you almost had me."

"Just you wait. You're gonna be It and like it."

"Keep telling yourself that."

At this point, Tony had no idea where they were other than 'Somewhere, New York.' He hoped they were still in New York at least. If they'd ended up in some dump like Boston, he'd sue. Seriously, fuck Boston and their lame ass baseball team.

He descended over a body of water which he assumed was one of the Great Lakes. His plan was to make Rhodey think he was going under, then pull up at the last second and leave him to clean the water out of his ears alone. Simple, yet effective. Worked every time. He executed a perfect swan dive, sailing closer and closer to the blue watery depths. FRIDAY could barely keep up to report how close to the ground he was. His fingers breached the surface and then he was off, soaring into the stratosphere

"That's what I'm talking about!" he cheered, leveling out at sixty thousand feet. "I think I just broke my record. How's that for firepower, huh Rhodey? Rhodey?"

Tony checked his back, but there was nothing to see except clouds and more clouds. Not even a speck where he'd left his dear old friend in the dust. He tapped his helmet, listening for Rhodey's voice in his ear.

"I think he went offline," said FRIDAY.

"Went offline? He disappeared!" Tony made a U-turn and searched the surrounding area for any sign of Rhodey. "When the hell did he leave?"

"A few minutes ago actually. I'm surprised you didn't notice." Tony was starting to think giving his AIs sapience wasn't one of his better ideas. "I think we were over the Bronx when he fell off the radar."

"But we don't know anyone in the Bronx! What the hell is he doing?"

 **MEANWHILE IN THE BRONX**

Sam had found a small cafe tucked into the corner of a busy intersection. Inside it was dimly lit with candles. Smooth jazz caressed his ears almost as sweetly as Marvin Gaye. He had a dark roast coffee and a stack of books at his side. Picking one up, he flipped to the last chapter and skimmed each page.

"Moby Dick," he murmured, jotting down the name in his notebook. "Ahab dies trying to kill the whale. Bucky will be thrilled. Okay… The Great Gatsby."

Rhodey broke through the roof, destroying several years' worth of handcrafted woodwork and causing an older bartender to faint. The generated wind blew Sam's books to the floor, pages flying in total disarray.

As bystanders screamed, believing there to be some kind of threat if an Avenger was around, Rhodey tapped Sam's knee- "It." -and took off again.

He was nice enough to use the same hole.

"Son of a bitch!" Sam cried, racing out the door. "You can't do that, asshole! I don't have my wings!"

An explosion somewhere behind him had Sam pitching forward. It sounded like a giant rock hitting the sidewalk. A rock that could walk and was coming toward him. Sam was dragged back to his feet by a pair of powerful hands. Booming laughter followed as he found himself staring into bright blue eyes.

"Son of Wil, good to see you!" Thor had his casual armor today, which meant he looked like a really convincing LARPer on his way to Ren Faire. "How are you today?"

"I'm good," Sam said. He craned his neck up, but there was no hint of Rhodey to be found. "Could be better…"

"I heard we were all playing a game and I'd like to join in," Thor said. "Though I'm not familiar with the rules of Tag. I was hoping you could explain?"

"Oh yeah, no problem," Sam said, barely containing a grin. "See, Tag is actually pretty simple. One person is It, and they have to chase around the other players until they tag someone. Then that person is the new It. Like right now, I'm It." Sam tapped Thor's steel pillar of an arm. "Now you're It, so you have to tag someone."

"I see. Then it's a hunt."

"Sort of. You're not supposed to hurt anyone, just tag them."

Thor considered that. "I can tag whomever I choose?"

"Pretty much," Sam replied. "As long as they're playing, they're fair game."

 **TWELVE SECONDS LATER**

'This was a bad idea.' Sam pressed the gas pedal through the floor, pushing the engine as fast as it would go. He was doing well over a hundred and twenty miles but Thor was still gaining on him. The shift from a hammer to an oversized ax had clearly not come at the cost of flight.

"I see why you play this game!" Thunder rumbled as lightning sprung out from Thor's fingers, shorting out a nearby car radio. "I haven't enjoyed myself so much since I was a boy."

"I'm glad you're having fun…"

Where the hell were the Avengers when he needed them?

 **MEANWHILE IN PARIS**

"This is nice," Wanda said.

Nice for her was a standard suite with a single queen-sized bed adorned with red velvet sheets, ornate Greek-themed decor, and a balcony overlooking the Eiffel tower. Vision didn't disagree, but as Tony would say, he was a sap. He could spend the night in a rotting shack with holes in the roof and a floor covered in cockroaches, and it would be his favorite place in the world because she was there.

Granted, this was much nicer than the shack. Four walls protected them from the outside world. He could assume his human form, take her in his arms, and hold her as they slow danced to a love song.

"We can stay the whole week if you wish," he said.

"Maybe." She smiled against his neck. Then kissed it. "Let's talk about it over dinner. How does coq au vin sound?"

"I saw a small bistro on our way here that I'm sure you'll love."

"As much as I love you? I can't imagine."

It was a perfect moment Vision wished would never end.

Because when it did end, Thor destroyed the balcony with a barrage of thunder and lightning. He lunged like a hungry leopard, sinking a fist in Vision's face. If he'd had time to prepare, he might have been able to take it, but he hit the wall with such force he didn't doubt a certain someone would soon be writing the hotel a check for damages.

"Well played!" Thor shouted as Wanda unfroze and hurried to his side. "My dear Vision, isn't it a lovely day to play Tag?"

"We're not playing," Vision said, allowing Wanda to help him up even though they both knew he didn't need it. "We were actually in the middle of a date."

"Forgive me, but I was told everyone was involved. You are now It, friend Vision, so what will be your first move?"

Wanda backed away from him, fresh tears springing forth like blades through his heart. "You… you wouldn't tag me, would you, Vis?"

Here Vision found himself in a dire situation. Thor was already gone, assuring that he could not be tagged again. Only Wanda remained, his beautiful Wanda. If he dared to lay his hand on her and pass along the burden of It, their love would surely not survive such a betrayal. Indescribable pain flooded through him, the likes of which would cripple a normal man.

It was too much for him to bear. He had to do something. But what?

Could he really tag her?

Could he destroy everything they'd built for the sake of a game?

"I... " he gasped, his flesh colored skin falling away. "I…"

He had no choice.

 **MEANWHILE IN SPACE**

The newly repaired and awesomer than ever Benatar soared through the stars, piloted by it's newly revived from Mind Stone death and badasser than ever captain, Peter Quill.

He bobbed his head to Ace Frehley, back in the New York groove and loving it. Things had been great since Thanos bit the bullet. He had his team, the love of his life, and a Zune full of new and old classic hits courtesy of Tony Stark (who turned green and threw up in his mouth at the sight of said Zune but whatever). He was Kevin Bacon at the end of Footloose and life was good.

"We are flying," he sang as they passed another asteroid. "Flying high and living higher. I am… actually kind of bored. Nothing's happened lately, has it?"

Vision appeared out of nowhere and tapped Peter's shoulder.

"Tag, you're It."

He disappeared.

Peter blinked. So did Gamora. So did the rest of the Guardians.

"What the hell was that?" asked Rocket.

 **MEANWHILE ON EARTH**

"Are you serious?"

The entire team had regrouped at Headquarters following Vision's crisis. Since the risk of being tagged was now several million lightyears away, tensions had fallen to a manageable level. Having made peace, the assembled Avengers fell into their usual pairings, chatting amongst themselves while Tony reamed Vision out.

"I can't believe you did that. I didn't even know you could do that!"

"I'm terribly sorry, I don't know what came over me." Vision hung his head. He stayed seated so not to draw attention to how much taller he was than his creator. "I suppose I panicked."

"Would it really have been that big of a deal to tag Maximoff?"

"I don't like playing tag," Wanda mumbled, taking Vision's hand. "I've never been a very fast runner."

Tony pulled at his hair in anger. "You literally have magi- gah! Forget it. We can always start a new game."

"What about Peter Quill?"

"What about him? He's not going to come all the way to Earth just to play Tag with us."

The Benatar smashed through the roof, luckily avoiding any casualties while still ruining what was left of the break room following Steve's wild ride. Out came Peter Quill, screeching like a banshee as he tackled the nearest person to the ground.

"I am not It," he yelled in Dr. Strange's face. "Do you hear me? I! Am never! It!"

They were nose to nose. Every bead of sweat dripped on Strange's face. He snorted at Peter, then tapped him. "Well, you are now."

He created a hole in the floor and sunk through, leaving Quill to scratch impotently at the carpet. By this time the rest of the Guardians had filed out of the ship, enjoying an unexpected, if welcome reunion with their earthbound friends.

"Son of a bitch! Fine!" Quill rounded on his teammates, tagging Drax. "Drax, you're it."

Drax stared at him. "I'm what?"

"No, you're It."

"But I'm Drax."

"I know, but you're also It."

"No… I'm Drax."

"No, dude, listen. It's a game. It's called Tag. You're It when you get tagged, and I was It just now but then I tagged you and now you're It."

"...but I'm Drax."

"Nevermind!" Peter tagged Gamora. "There. You're It."

"I don't want to be It," Gamora said.

"Too bad, honey, you're still It. I'll make it up to you tonight." Quill added as if no one else could hear them.

"You'd better." Gamora absently poked Mantis, who squealed with delight.

"I like this game already," she cheered before running up to Peter Parker and tagging him. "You're It."

"Yes!"

"No, he's still grounded," said Tony, patting his shoulder.

"Aww…"

"Okay, let's pause for a second." Tony counted the number of heads, intentionally skipping over Peter. "So we have… a lot of players. Way more than I expected. I think what we need now is a different terrain."

"You have any ideas?" asked Clint.

"As a matter of fact, I do." Tony grinned a grin full of dark intent and mischief. "We've already gone intergalactic. Now let's go international."

 **MEANWHILE IN WAKANDA**

T'Challa and Okoye led a small group of Dora Milaje back from another successful training exercise. Their defenses were heightened since the battle against Thanos and his forces. Glad as T'Challa was that the war was over, neither he nor anyone else who spent time in the soul stone was eager to face death again for a while.

They chatted lightly as they followed the familiar path to the meeting room. It was almost lunchtime and their growling stomachs were louder than their voices. Rounding a corner, they were stopped by a young boy in a flashy red and blue suit.

"Hey, guys!" Peter waved so hard his hand hurt.

"Mr. Parker?" T'Challa tilted his head to one side. "What brings you here?"

"Oh you know, I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop to say hi. You know." Peter kicked at the air a bit. "I'm definitely not a distraction."

T'Challa stared at him. "A distraction? For wha-"

"SNEAK ATTACK!" Tony slammed into T'Challa from behind, taking them both to the ground. He straddled the king, not even caring about the twenty plus spears pointed at his face. "Yes! You are It! Get ready to play."

"Pardon?" Tony got off and helped T'Challa to his feet. "What is going on here?"

"We're all playing Tag," Tony pointed at the rest of the heroes, who had emerged from their hiding spots. "Don't tell me you've never played Tag before."

"Oh, we phased that game out long ago. It was far inferior to our current version, which involves using mental power to reach out and administer touch via psychic waves. We developed the technology some time ago for the children."

Everyone stared at him wide-eyed. Then Okoye started snickering. "They think you're serious."

She, T'Challa, and the rest of the Dora Milaje dissolved into laughter, much to the irritation of everyone except Bucky, who couldn't hide a smile.

"It's not funny," Sam hissed at him.

"It's kind of funny."

"Beatrice is the Baudelaire kids' mother."

Bucky swept Sam's legs out from under him.

"All right," T'Challa said, regaining his composure so fast, it was like he'd never lost it. "Okoye, go on without me. This will be a long discussion we must have."

"Of course, my king."

T'Challa led the Avengers to the throne room. Only Shuri was there tapping away on her palm pad. She ignored them, and T'Challa didn't seem bothered by her presence. The doors closed behind them. "My friends, for what reason have you come here today?"

"I told you, we're playing Tag," said Tony.

"Yes, it is a marvelous game," Thor boomed. "I haven't felt this exhilarated since I defeated Banner in combat."

"Oh yeah, you totally won that fight," Bruce muttered knowingly. "Sure thing, pal."

"See? That king is into it. Now we just need you and the game will be complete."

T'Challa observed Tony pensively, his eyes full of ageless wisdom. "My friend, let us not involve ourselves in the mechanisms of the young. This sort of activity is far beneath us. It only brings about strife as we are pitted against those closest to us for no benefit. I shouldn't have to tell you the kind of pain such action can bring."

Tony turned bright red. Much as he wanted to argue, T'Challa wasn't wrong. He'd chased Rhodey around the country, driven Steve to insanity, had Clint and Natasha slap-fighting in the middle of Central Park and becoming the number one trending video on YouTube. Most of that was actually kind of sad. "Well… I mean, I just thought it would be fun…"

"I know it's easy to give in to the desire to relive childhood." T'Challa gave him a friendly clap on the arm. "To go back to a time before the darkness of the world seeps in. I understand that you're It."

"Yeah, I- wait, what?"

Tony stared at the space T'Challa had once occupied. He still felt the pressure of his hand. The Black Panther was fully suited up by the window. He saluted them-

"WAKANDA FOREVER!"

-and backflipped through the glass into the jungle.

Everyone was frozen like a painting. Then Tony's face screwed up with anger. "Oh, that sneaky mother-"

"TONY'S IT!" Quill shouted. "EVERYONE SCATTER!"

The entire team piled out the broken window. Wanda, Vision, Rhodey, Sam, and Thor were airborne. Steve and Bucky took to the trees with Natasha and Clint close behind.

"Oh is that how it is?" Tony's suit pulsed with unbridled energy. "Fine, then. You are ALL GOING DOWN!"

He exited through the ceiling, a predator on the hunt for fresh prey. Only Peter and Shuri remained.

"So... " Shuri said after several minutes of nothing. "What to see my lab?"

"Are you kidding? Hell yeah!"

 **MEANWHILE IN THE JUNGLE**

Steve crept through the thicket of vines. It wasn't the first time he'd traversed Wakanda on foot, but he had yet to do so in fear of his life. His shield was out and ready, his eagle eye scanning for boogies. Tony could be anywhere; on the ground, in the air, sneaking up behind him.

He whirled around and threw a punch. Nothing.

Iron Man burst through the trees a foot away. "Hey Cap! Loser who's It says, 'What!'"

"What?"

Tony knocked him to the ground and flew out of sight.

The string of curses Steve let out was the stuff of legends. He could never prod anyone about their language again.

 **MEANWHILE WITH THE GUARDIANS**

"If we stick together we have a better chance of getting through this untagged." Quill led his team through a patch of mud, blasting a low hanging branch out of their way. "Just stay close, don't go out of my sight, we'll be fine. Nothing to worry about."

"I am Groot."

"Look, I told you, buddy, it's just some game we playing," Rocket said.

"I am Groot?"

"Of course he's taking it too seriously. He's Quill. His brain never fully developed. It's why he still sleeps in footie pajamas."

"Those are frozen planets only, and you know it." Quill snapped. "Now shut the hell up. We don't want to draw attention to ourselves."

"YAAAAAAH!"

Steve popped out of the bushes and roundhouse kicked Quill in the face. Drax and Groot ducked to avoid touching him, leaving Quill to land in the mud.

"IT!" Steve took off, cackling maniacally.

"SCREW YOU!" Quill yelled after him. "I REGRET GOING AS YOU FOR HALLOWEEN WHEN I WAS SIX!"

"I am Groot."

"No one asked you!"

 **MEANWHILE WITH WANDA**

She'd been separated from Vision and Clint was nowhere to be found. He had to be with Natasha. Hopefully, whoever was It wouldn't find them.

It wasn't Tony anymore. She knew that when he waved at her while passing overhead. That meant someone else was out there, biding their time, waiting for their next victim.

Well, it wouldn't be her.

 _'I miss you, Pietro,'_ she thought, wiping away her tears. _'You were always great at Tag.'_

Leaves rustled and she pivoted to find Mantis staring at her. She raised her hands in surrender. She wasn't It.

"Hello," she said. They'd never had a chance to sit down and chat, but she liked the young alien. There was something familiar about how sad her smiles were.

"Hello," she replied. "I'm really sorry."

Wanda furrowed her brow. "Sorry for what?"

Peter Quill jogged along and tapped her. "You're It."

Mantis shrugged and ran after him.

Wanda pouted. She could almost hear Pietro snickering at her.

 **MEANWHILE WITH SAM**

Something caught hold of his wing, pulling him back to earth. He only knew it was a tangible force when he spotted Wanda on the ground. She'd used her magic to lasso him. Try as he might, his rockets were no match and his Redwings bounced harmlessly off her invisible shield.

"You're It," she said, pinching his cheek like an overzealous great aunt.

 **MEANWHILE WITH BUCKY**

He hadn't seen anyone in a while and thought he was in the clear. HYDRA had trained him to be a ghost, to practice stealth at every moment (unless directly ordered not to which happened a weird number of times).

His keen ears picked up every sound, from footsteps to animals to roaring engines in the distance. Yet he still missed the imminent danger rocketing his way until Sam was upon him.

"SNAPE KILLS DUMBLEDOREEEEEEEEE!"

Bucky screamed in rage as the punch knocked him off his feet.

 **MEANWHILE WITH T'CHALLA**

Bucky tackled and took out his frustrations on the hapless king.

 **MEANWHILE WITH CLINT**

He fired three arrows and all of them missed. A tree exploded as he and T'Challa engaged in combat.

 **MEANWHILE WITH DR. STRA-**

He couldn't open the portal fast enough before Clint slapped him.

 **MEANWHILE WITH THE HU-**

Strange landed on his head and hopped off.

 **MEANWHILE WITH-**

Hulk bodyslammed Rhodey into a pond.

 **MEANWHILE-**

Rhodey chased Natasha up a tree.

 **MEANWHI-**

Natasha clotheslined Thor.

 **MEANWH-**

Punched.

 **MEANW-**

Kicked.

 **MEAN-**

Slapped.

 **MEA-**

Stabbed with a particularly sharp rock.

 **ME-**

Smashed.

 **M-**

Blown up.

"STOOOOOP!"

With that one hollered command, the entire world went on pause. Or at least the massive bar brawl happening at Tony Stark's feet did. Bucky stopped punching Sam. Natasha froze mid kick between Dr. Strange's legs. T'Challa did not claw Clint in the face. Rhodey disabled the missile he'd been about to shoot at Hulk. Everyone caught their breath as their collective adrenaline levels crashed.

"Okay," Tony said, landing on a rock formation out of harm's way. "Who's It?"

Everyone looked at each other- "S/He is!" - and pointed at each other.

Tony rubbed his eyes. "Oh boy…"

"It's all right," said T'Challa, stepping out of the fray. "We can find out who the last It was. There are cameras all over these jungles."

"Really?" Tony perked up. "Awesome! Who do we talk to?"

 **MEANWHILE IN SHURI'S LAB**

"Okay, let's take a look." Shuri expanded and zoomed in on the footage, going frame by frame in rapid time.

"There's me tackling Rhodey," Tony grinned. "Nice faceplant, buddy."

"Yeah man, just wait 'til you get yours. Just wait…"

"After that, it looks like Colonel Rhodes tagged Wanda." Shuri zoomed in closer. "Then she tagged Dr. Banner, he tagged Sergeant Barnes, he tagged Captain Rogers…"

She went down the list, which was shockingly long. It seemed every single combination of tagger and taggee had happened at least once over the course of twenty minutes. The video dragged on and it was looking increasingly like they'd never reach the end and find the answers they sought, until-

"Wait, stop there." Tony pointed at the upper left corner of the screen. "Clint was It and he fell into Thor. Then look what happens."

Shuri restarted the video at an eighth of normal speed, just enough for them to catch Thor disappear behind a tree before Tony called the game to a stop.

"I think we've got it," Shuri said, point triumphantly. "Thor is It!"

"Yes!" Tony pumped a fist. "Now we can keep playing."

"Wait a moment," Thor said, "are you absolutely certain I was the last It?"

"Sorry buddy, the tape don't lie." Tony tapped the screen (or would have if it were solid). "Clint got tagged by Sam, and then he tagged you, so you're It. Don't like it, tag someone else."

"That isn't my concern," Thor replied, and for some odd reason, he'd lost some color in his face. "You see, I was having so much fun, I saw fit to bring along another player, and… well…"

He hung his head in shame leaving Tony and the others to work out his meaning themselves.

"What do you mean?" Tony asked. "Who did you invite?"

"Hello."

The voice came from everywhere. As did the horrible smirking face of a pale man in green and black armor. Everyone screamed and jumped, but they weren't quick enough before he had them. Cold hands touched each of them before disappearing. The doubles reformed into a single entity, standing all innocent-like as if he wasn't the root of all chaos and destruction.

"Loki!" Tony shouted. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Playing Tag," Loki said casually. "At least that is how Thor described it. Thank you again for the invitation, brother."

Tony vowed to buy out every waffle making company in the world and make it illegal to sell them to Thor.

"Now, it appears we are at a bit of an impasse," Loki observed the gobsmacked heroes with unsuppressed mirth. "I was until moments ago what you would call It, and it appears I was fortunate enough to tag you all within the same moment. How very interesting."

"First of all, I never said you could play," Tony stared at Loki's head hoping his convenient telekinetic powers would kick in and blow it to kingdom come. "Second of all, only one person can be It at a time. You can't have multiple Its."

"And where in the rules is this written?"

"It doesn't need to be written, it's just how the game works."

"I'm sorry, but unless I see a law set in stone stating why you can't all be It, then you'll find I'm the only one still eligible to be tagged." Loki walked around them without fear, careful not to accidentally brush anyone. "Worry not, it makes the game much simpler for you. If just one of you can tag me, then the rest of you will be freed from your bonds. You can tag me right now if you wish. I'm right here. Free for the picking."

Clint hurled himself bodily at Loki, only to phase right through him and land in a heap.

"A worthy attempt." Loki's image flickered. "Now if you can just find the real me."

He vanished from sight, but his hysterical laughter echoed in their ears, shaking them to the core. Never to leave them for all eternity.

"LOKIIIIIIIIII!"

 **THE END(?)**


End file.
